


Totus

by redemptivs (orderandsophism)



Series: Max and Furiosa Are Bad at Everything [3]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, disgusting, domestic AU, lil bit o' grab ass, stfu marrieds, they're horrible, wait i think i mentioned max getting a chubby but i did so in the most unsexy and bloated terms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderandsophism/pseuds/redemptivs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes, Max and Furiosa wake up their daughter in the middle of the night because they miss her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostjogging](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ghostjogging).



> Modern AU where Max and Furiosa have a kid and it's Glory, fite me fite me all fucken day.

“I made you some tea,” Max announces softly as he enters the bedroom, balancing a small tray with two mugs of a chamomile brew with more care than is necessary. He sets a mug on Furiosa’s bedside table, carefully moving the stack of Thomas Harris novels to the side to make room for it. 

Furiosa’s already in bed, curled up with one of her murder mystery novels, but she looks up at him with a sleepy smile, green eyes weary and half-lidded with the heaviness of sleepiness. “Thanks, _kutya_ ,” she says, reaching lazily for his hand.

He sits on the bed and takes it, squeezing her fingertips affectionately as he tangles his fingers within hers. “You staying up much longer?” he asks, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently.

Furiosa shakes her head and closes her book, and Max doesn’t hesitate to pitch forward and fall onto her, earning a peal of laughter from his wife. Her arms wind swiftly around his thick neck, and she’s covering his woolly cheeks in a smattering of loud, smacking kisses, which he accepts with a strange, heaving sort of laughter. He keels over onto his side of the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close as she fussily arranges the covers over them both.

“Time for bed?” he asks, and she nods, both of them reaching to turn off their respective bedside lamps before curling into each other with a shared, settled sigh.

“Do you think …. do you think she’s doing okay?” Max asks meekly, his voice a whisper in the dark. 

“Who?” Furiosa asks, already half asleep. “Glory?” 

“Yeah.” Max sniffs. “Do you think she’s sleeping okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Furiosa assures him, rubbing his back and then slipping lower to squeeze his backside. “She’s probably sleeping fine.”

Max is dubious, but says nothing.

“Do you think she’s lonely?” Max ventures eventually. 

“No, because she’s asleep,” Furiosa reasons, and Max huffs.

“What if we went to go get her?” Max’s fingers are already scratching lightly at the collar of her shirt, in that stubborn, insistent way he does when he’s not to be dissuaded.

“ _Max_ ,” Furiosa intones, saying his name like a warning. 

“I miss her,” Max wheedles. “Don’t act like you don’t miss our daughter.”

Furiosa covered her face and sighs, but nods. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah okay.”

Max makes a delighted sound and is already pulling a robe around him and jamming his feet into fleece-lined slippers. He grabs at her wrist and pulls her out the door, down the hall …. and directly into Glory’s bedroom.

Glory is facedown on the bed, her wild, curling hair splayed out like a corona of tangles, her arms and legs folded neatly to her side.

Furiosa frowns. “Jesus Christ, did you tuck her in like that?”

Max gestures to her helplessly, suddenly panicking. “That’s how she sleeps.”

Furiosa clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “I love her,” she says, in that resigned tone, as if she has no choice. “She’s a goddamn angel.” She looks at him with a brow raised. “You’re the one who wanted to wake her. You do the honors.”

“Alright,” he says, bracing himself with a short sigh. “Get me the Pokey.”

Furiosa hands him a broomstick with the head removed, replaced with a construction glove filled with cotton gently weighted with some pink craft sand in the fingers. He uses this contraption to stroke Glory’s shoulder with the utmost of care, before nudging her softly with it. “Glory?” he calls with a careful lilt to his voice. “Glory, baby?”

Glory whips around with a bestial snarl, immediately on her hands and knees. her eyes are still squeezed shut, nose wrinkling as she huffs through her nose and sniffs at the air to determine the source of the disturbance.

“Jesus!” Furiosa exclaims, gripping Max’s beefy arm, thankful she hadn’t said anything more alarming. 

“Pa?” Glory asks in a wibbly voice. She sits up, rubbing her eyes, suddenly looking like a darling little thing and not a feral child. “Pa, is that you?”

“Hi, baby,” Max says warmly, sliding an arm around Furiosa’s shoulder and walking the pair of them to Glory’s bedside.

“We missed you,” Furiosa whispers meaningfully, nodding, which does nothing to dissuade the sempiternal look of disgust on Glory’s face. The little girl crawls back under the covers and resumes laying on her face without another word, leaving her parents feeling satisfied with the endeavor, if a little foolish for the trouble.

“Well, okay,” Max says, nodding. “That’s …. that’s that.”

He begins to lead Furiosa out the bedroom, but she ducks down to kiss Glory’s crown. He follows suit, but Glory only yells savagely into her pillow, and the two scurry out like roaches.

“Do you think she loves us?” Furiosa asks as they quick-walk back to their bedroom. 

Max brandishes the Pokey, still in hand. “I dunno, you want to go back and find out?” 

Furiosa laughs and shakes her head. “No. I need that illusion. At least _you_ love me, right?”

Max beams. “Yeah,” he says, tossing himself into bed with a little hop. “Don’t I make a great consolation prize?” 

Furiosa shrugs and pulls a fantastical bitter beer face, laughing as he pulls her down into an unyielding embrace, rubbing his woolly cheek against hers with his gently brand of brutality. She pretends to hate it, to struggle uselessly within his arms, and then she feels the intrusive presence of an unmistakable tumescent protuberance against her ass. Suddenly, their struggle seems to shift into something much different. 

His lips are at the nape of her neck, sucking a mark into her skin, his fingers digging hard into the jut of her hip bones, and she’s rutting back against him with a growing desperation. His fingertips tease the waistband of her garishly plaid jammy bottoms, slipping down past the elastic of her decidedly unsexy cotton underwear, but Furiosa’s breathing hard anyways. She reaches back to grab a handful of ass, pulling him against her as hard as she’s able, and then -

The door creaks, and instinctively they freeze up, releasing each other in time for a bleary-eyed Glory to trudge across their bedroom and clamber onto their bed, climbing artlessly over Furiosa’s body to situate herself rudely, facedown between her mother and father. 

Max looks at Furiosa helplessly, and they two share a look of commiseration that melts into one of contentment as they snuggle against their daughter and sleep in the fullness of completion.


End file.
